


A Series of Unfortunate Events

by Rowdyravenclaw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Date gone wrong, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowdyravenclaw/pseuds/Rowdyravenclaw
Summary: Gabriel’s planned an elaborate Valentine’s Day evening, every t crossed and i dotted, or so he thought.





	A Series of Unfortunate Events

The plan was simple, he’d been devising it for weeks. It involved a few phone calls, a little trickster magic and a whole lot of charm, three things he happened to have very easy access to. Everything was laid out, bought, reserved and ready to be put to action, the last piece of the puzzle set to turn into the driveway in three… two… one…

STEP ONE: THE WELCOME HOME SURPRISE

“Well, hey there sunshine, have a good day?” Gabriel inquired from the kitchen, finishing the final preparations for the beginning of his elaborate scheme.

“No!” she snapped in response, his hands freezing in the middle of their task, “I swear to fucking God above if I see one more fucking PIECE OF CHOCOLATE I will vomit.”

His face hardened into a thin line as he dropped the wooden spoon into the pot. Okay, this technically wasn’t a _piece_ of chocolate, it was a pot, meant to dip the various not-chocolate fruits and marshmallows and candies he’d ornately placed on a tray he intended to deliver to her upon arrival. So that didn’t count, did it? She probably meant boxes of chocolates, those terrible, cheap, over-processed clumps of sugar that people exchanged half-heartedly so they didn’t get put in the dog house assortments. This was a whole-hearted endeavor, classy and well-devised, as all his efforts were of course. It would be exceptionally well received, as it was completely unrelated to ‘pieces of chocolate’.

“Oh shit!” he mumbled under his breath, snapping out of his thoughts to find his very expensive dark chocolate fondue becoming a very burnt batch of fon-don’t. 

Well there went that idea. *Snap*

STEP TWO: THE DRESS

Rounding the corner from the now spotless kitchen he found her laying face down on the couch, shoes still on. He felt bad, but the fact that she had had a bad day was seemingly going to play to his favor. A thoughtful, well-planned evening out after a hard day? Sounded like a chance for some bonus points.

“Why don’t you head into the bedroom? I think there may be something in there for you,” he chimed, giving her bottom a light smack.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice muffled by the cushions.

“I have a relaxing, extravagant evening planned for us, step one (two) is waiting for you in the room, get a move on, cause we’re on a tight schedule.”

That seemed to perk her up. She lifted her head from the couch with a curious little smirk, her eyes glinting at him with a little bit of that bit of magic that kept him coming back for more. He gestured with his hand towards the hall, hurrying her along. They were now down to less than an hour until step three.

Waiting patiently in the living room, thumbing through his phone, he heard her call out to him from their bedroom. Well, she did not sound all that impressed. Must be the way the sound traveled through the house because there was no way she was anything less than enthralled by what was waiting for her laid out on the bed. He crept through the hall, expecting to find her waiting for him, the zipper of that little black number still hanging open exposing the smooth, soft skin of her back…

“Oh come on,” he whispered angrily, hanging his head til his chin hit his chest.

“Bit big,” she admitted, biting her lower lip in pity.

He’d checked the sizes on _everything_ in her closet, how did he pick the _one_ thing that ran seventy-two sizes too large. It hung awkwardly around her frame, falling down her shoulders, this was not going to work.

“Can’t you just, snap it to fit?” she suggested, shrugging, causing it to drop completely off her arms and down the floor.

He groaned, okay, this was fine. *Snap*

STEP THREE: A SEAT WITH A VIEW

One thing had gone exactly as planned, the car showed up right on time… smelling like cigarettes and cheap pine air fresheners, but shown up nonetheless. She looked stunning in her now perfectly fitting attire, her hair styled and the tiniest bit of makeup on to accentuate her already perfect features. He’d reserved a table at one of the most sought after restaurants in town, ensuring a seat with a view. As the host led them through the bustling dining area, he was happy they’d guaranteed him this nice, quiet back corner. 

The table was perfectly set, a single candle burning in the middle, surrounded by white and red petals, finally, something just as he’d arranged. The window gave a perfect sunset view of the gardens, a fountain cascading in the center of the various plants and flowers. He knew she would love it, she had to, right? They slid into the booth, the grateful smile that graced her lips washing away the shame of his previous faux-pas’. Yet no sooner than their seats beginning to warm, did a baby cry out from the bench behind them.

“There is no way,” he murmured to himself as the cries turned to ear-piercing wails.

Now, he had no issues with children, they were great, the future, pure innocent little souls. However, he did have an issue with them at a five star restaurant, on Valentine’s Day, where everything was _already going wrong_. He opened his mouth to speak, but was abruptly cut off by another screech. When he looked over at her, her face was lifted in empathy. At least she wasn’t mad? Or was she? 

STEP FOUR: DINNER

Drinks were ordered, the champagne was popped, glasses full, baby consoled. Things were back on track. Her eyes scanned the menu and he watched as her eyebrows furrowed. Nope, this wasn’t happening.

“Is this… a sushi place?” she questioned softly, he could just hear the sympathy in her tone.

“Uh… yeah…” he answered, his distress very evident.

“I’m… I’m allergic to shellfish.”

“Oh. Well, I mean, that’s fine, we’ll just get stuff without any shellfish. There should be something…”

Shrimp. Crab. Lobster. Why did _everything_ need some form of crustacean? Oh there was some… no way she ate sea urchin. Was that a shellfish? He couldn’t remember. He was too busy cursing himself internally to actually care. How did he not know she was allergic to fucking shellfish? Probably because they’d never eaten anywhere where this was an issue. Until now. Until the _one damn day it counted._

“For the love of all things,” muttered, hiding his lips behind the heavy, leather-bound menu.

“It’s fine. It looks they have… one?” she suggested, trying so hard to appreciate his efforts, “is squid a shellfish?”

He huffed out a sigh. Yes. Yes it was. He was going to punch the next Cupid he saw.

STEP FIVE: DESSERT

Thankfully, by some high and holy grace of heaven (that was not his own) he’d managed to convince the chefs (convince as in a little snap here, a little smack there) to concoct something shellfish free for his delicate, little Chèrie. It was time for dessert. They didn’t put shellfish in dessert, not even here. This was going to go flawlessly. 

Crème Brûlée was the dish of choice. A little out of place in a sushi joint but who was he to judge. Her spirits were still high, how he wasn’t sure but he’d be damned if anything was going to dampen them. She laughed at his bad jokes, blushed when he brought her hand up to his lips to kiss and smiled at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. His desire for a perfect night had seemingly finally been granted. When their dessert was delivered, she grinned from ear to ear and his heart swelled, her lips mimicking that feeling, but physically.

“Uh… Gabe…” she choked, her airways starting to close.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpered, jumping to his feet.

His fingers fell to her forehead, stopping the reaction in its tracks. Where the _hell_ was there _shellfish_ in dessert? With a sigh his forehead fell to her shoulder, what a terrible, no good, piss poor attempt at a date this had turned out to be. At least it couldn’t get any worse.

STEP SIX: TAKE HER HOME, BLOW HER MIND

He had half a mind to not even pay the bill. If it was real money he was using he may not have. He led her outside, the pings form his phone signaling their ride had arrived and he was so beyond ready to get her home. If there was one thing he knew he couldn’t screw up, it was sex. Tonight was going to be extra special because one, Valentine’s Day and two, he was a royal fuck up who had to fuck his way back into good graces. 

“Okay… red Honda Civic, see it?” he searched, the cool night air refreshing on his embarrassment flushed skin.

“Yup…” she replied flatly and he followed her eyes to see two other couples getting into their ride.

“I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point.”

He could cry. Like actually physically cry, and bonus, you wouldn’t even be able to tell because less than two minutes after watching their lift drive off, it began to rain. Not that cute, oh we can kiss and it’ll be so romantic rain, it was torrential downpour, soaked you down to the bone in thirty seconds flat rain. She shrieked, covering her head with her bare arms and he mentally kicked himself for not grabbing a jacket to wear over his button down shirt. It was just she _loved_ him in a white button down, had told him on many occasions, but just like every other thing he’d done to try and please her, it backfired. 

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders he pulled her back into the lobby of the restaurant, completely uncaring that they were dripping all over this shellfish- obsessed establishments pristine flooring. Was she laughing? His eyes floated back to her and he could hardly believe it. There she stood, soaked, her dress clinging to her in all the right places, her makeup running down her face in black streaks and she was _laughing_. 

“This has been some night…” she snorted, hugging his arm with hers, “can’t we take a shortcut?”

Magic. That’s all she was. *Snap* 

STEP SEVEN: ~~BLOW HER MIND~~ ACCEPT DEFEAT

They landed in their living room, still wet, still a mess. He couldn’t even be around her at this point, this was quite literally the worst evening he’d ever had. With a sigh he took off in the direction of the bathroom, where he could lock the door and hide for a week until his shame dissipated.

“Where ya goin’?” her sweet as honey voice called as she padded along behind him.

“Bathroom,” he grunted back.

“You don’t use the bathroom.”

To cry he did! To wallow in self misery, drown himself in pity and self-loathing, he absolutely did, but he couldn’t walk away from her. He stopped, keeping his back to her, still not quite ready to face the victim of his horrible charade. When she realized he wasn’t turning, she ducked around him to come face to face, her lips turned up into a satisfied little grin and her eyes alight.

“Thank you,” she bade softly, grabbing his hands.

“Thank me? For what? This was a disaster. I had to give you a celestial epi-pen…” he chided, scoffing at her gratitude for absolutely nothing.

“Yeah. Better than an actual epi-pen though. No bruised thigh.”

How was she seeing anything positive in this situation? 

“Unzip me?” she requested, turning her back.

Slowly, he pulled the little black zipper down, peeling the soaked fabric from her skin. She was a wonder to behold, sopping wet or not. When she faced him again, her bare upper body causing his breath to catch in his throat, she slowly began plucking at the button of his shirt, her fingers trailing down each new inch of exposed skin.

“It may not have been what you planned, but it’s still more than anyone else has ever done for me,” she confessed, pushing the shirt from his shoulders, “so thank you.”

Leaning up on her tiptoes she captured his mouth with her own, winding her fingers into his rain tousled hair. He whined into her kiss, running his hands along her sides as he deepened it, his tongue pressing and begging against her lips. Her skin was cold beneath his touch, still damp and he thought, maybe he could give one more thing a shot.

“Why don’t I run us a bath,” he suggested, lips still feathering against hers as he spoke, “warm you up. Then give you somethin’ to thank me for.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” she purred, reaching her hands down to undo his belt.

“I’ll give ya the arrow that sent all the Cupid’s packing.”

With a coy smile she pulled at the waist of his pants, forgoing the bathroom and heading straight into the bedroom, “Why don’t you do that first.”


End file.
